One Piece: Silent Nightmare
by Emaschi
Summary: But at night, when the darkness dulls his senses and sleep leaves him defenseless, Sanji often drifts back to a part in his life that he would prefer to be gone.    Sanji-centric, but Zoro/Sanji in the end. No Yaoi intended, though.


**Title: **Silent Nightmare  
**Rating:** K+  
**Pairing:** Zoro/Sanji (fluff?), no real pairing, though  
**Disclaimer:** One Piece is not mine.  
**Summary:** But at night, when the darkness dulls his senses and sleep leaves him defenseless, Sanji often drifts back to a part in his life that he would prefer to be gone.

No beta. Please be lenient.  
I just felt like fluff. Really, you guys, I need it right now.

**Silent Nightmare**

_Sanji. Just a boy. Just another boy. A starving boy on a rock, surrounded by nothing but the sea. Single seagulls flew of the blonde's head, but he didn't have the strength to even try to catch them, throw stones at them, run after them or break their necks._

Hunger seeped like fever through his body. Demolishing slow, for every minute that passed was just another minute more to suffer. Pictures in his mind circled, memories of lost times flashed through his mind. Fading faces were replaced by the single desire for food.  
The heart of the boy was a sore, black hole; defeated by hopelessness and filled with emptiness. 

_But still, his gaze held a longing wish, a yearning, a silent prayer that no one seemed to answer. What he did to deserve this punishment, he didn't know – because he probably didn't deserve it at all._

Death whispered in his ears, hummed a promising song of salvation and never-ending bliss.  
"Not yet," escaped the boy's dry lips.  
Sanji tried to stop the spinning in his head. Bony fingers reached for a sign, a meaning for a lonely life.

Colors started to swirl again. Time flew by and the only thing that was left of the last spark of hope was a pile of bones. A skeleton of a child, a skeleton of just another boy. 

The nineteen-year old cook wakes up with a hasty breath. Cold sweat, sparkling pearls of salty water, stands on his forehead.  
Long fingers grasp on the sheets of his bedding. The first rush of nervousness shrinks as he realized that he is with the Mugiwara-Crew on the Thousand Sunny. He checks if anyone is still asleep, because the blonde doesn't really want to be the center of attention. Not right at the moment.

But Luffy and Franky hold their nightly snoring contest that is only interrupted by Usopp's shout of unseen bravery. Chopper mumbles something not-audible, probably dreaming of himself curing the world of its sicknesses.  
Zoro and Brook lay still and motionless like the dead – no pun intended.

'This shitty dream again,' Sanji thinks, bitterness fills his inner voice. 'Just need a cigarette and it'll be forgotten.'

A few minutes pass as he smokes a cigarette and reassures himself if Robin needs anything on her watch. He returns to the men's sleeping chamber, because it could not be later than approximately two or three o'clock in the morning.

These types of dreams are a frequent, recurrent pain in the ass. He usually could think of something different in the daytime, as long as he is preoccupied with work. Cooking, cleaning, adoring the girls – everything that needs to be done.  
But at night, when the darkness dulls his senses and sleep leaves him defenseless, Sanji often drifts back to a part in his life that he would prefer to be gone.

Sanji is glad that Franky replaced the old hammocks with beds. These old shreds were nice in the beginning but always gave him backache after long nights.  
He lies still, but his eyes are wide open. No longer could he deny the throbbing in his chest. An uncomfortable feeling floods him, something less than fear but more than indifference. Sleep is not an option. The blonde cannot stand the pictures that he remembers when he closes his eyes. A world full of nothing but pain, death gnawing on his stomach, bones sticking out under skin,…

Right now, the wind blows softly over the ocean, creating waves that rock the ship on the water. The moon paints romantic pictures of sparkling endlessness. Only the sound of floods crushing on wood disturbs the silence.

Sanji pulls his legs to his chest and swings his arms over his own body, tries to hold himself together. As if the memories could evict the happiness he felt with the crew he is sailing with. It is a strange habit that he broke into right after he left North Blue.  
It keeps the loneliness at bay and warms the lost spot that was left cold from a nightmare.

Not five minutes pass when suddenly rustling comes from behind the snores of their captain. Sanji does not even need to guess who the approaching man is, but still turns around.  
Zoro stands next to his bed, starring longer than necessary. Like usual, his face was stoic and not readable, he could be deciding whether to take a shower today or not or thinking about murdering a puppy. Sanji does not give a shit.

"Stupid Aho-cook… Always making me do stupid things!," Zoro's dark voice grumbles in annoyance.

His eyes glare daggers at Sanji, but his actions betray his words – like they often do.  
So he gets a hold of the chef's blanket and settles his body next to him. As he untangles Sanji's limbs, he only mumbles curses and death wishes at him.

"Baka! Sleep!"

Sanji hates it when Zoro orders him around, but this time – _only _this time – he does as he tells him to. That blank feeling passes on, drowning to an unknown place in the ocean.  
No words need to be said, because this was not the first time Zoro surprises him like this.

He closes his eyes and slowly drifts into sleep.  
Sanji can always kick the moss-head in the morning and pretend this never happened. These are memories the cook only wants to keep to himself.


End file.
